Author's Notes: I do not own these characters, but I'm having a great time borrowing them. Enjoy and review...

Chapter 10

Sam spent the remainder of his time alone going over his conversation with Bobby again and again in his mind. He listed off all the things that could point to the possibility of Meranda being one of these things and he hated to say it, but it might be true. He knew that he was attracted to her, but also feared that he had feelings for her. But for the life of him, couldn't figure out how or why when they'd spent minimal time together and no time alone. They'd exchanged no more than what he would term as "party conversation" – something that might contribute to the lust factor, but not the emotions. He felt fondly protective of her – not something you'd associate with a random hook-up. And that's another thing that didn't make sense to him when he really let himself think about it…hook-ups are Dean's thing, not his. Had he ever had a one night stand before? He'd blushingly tell you that he had. But if asked how many? He probably wouldn't answer…but up until now he could count them all on one hand.

He was just beginning to concentrate on how to broach the subject with Dean when his brother walked in with two large fast food bags. Meranda was right behind him carrying two cup carriers, each with three large cups in them. When she saw Sam looking at the cups she smiled and explained.

"Sodas," she said lifting one. "Milkshakes," she said as she lifted the other.

The only thing about the explanation that surprised Sam was that it wasn't followed up with, "and the rest are in the car."

It didn't take long for the smells from the bags to permeate the room or for Sam's belly to grumble with desire from them. Dean rattled off the contents of the bags as he sat them down, opened one and took out a burger and fries for himself before sitting down at the table. Obviously he was hungry and, well, nothing much comes between Dean and his food.

"I was going to ask what took so long, but by the looks of things, they had to kill three cows just to fill our order…damn!" Sam said as he and Meranda both settled in with their portions at the table.

"Nah…they were actually pretty speedy," Dean said between bites. "We might have stopped for a uh…pit stop…on the way," he finished with a wink and smirk at Meranda who covered her mouth with a napkin, laughed and blushed.

Sam was taking all this in while trying to remain objective. He had just begun to think of "harmless" ways he could test her with the standard demon tests when she touched him gently on the arm and started telling him about the struggle she had keeping Dean out of the bags on the ride back. Her touch startled him out of thought and he found himself paying attention to her every word as if it were the most interesting thing he'd ever heard.

Dean chimed in to defend himself, laughing. He shook his head at his brother and rolled his eyes as if to say, "She's so full of shit." Sam's mind fought to recapture his train of thought, but all he could manage was grasping at a vague resemblance of what he was looking for just as it escaped him completely. His next thought was, if it's important, it'll come to me again later. It was something his father always seemed to say when he couldn't remember something.

They finished their meal and after cleaning up, Dean suggested going swimming. Sam didn't even bother to remind him about the thirty minute rule.

"I'm still kind of tired so I think I'm gonna skip it for tonight," Meranda said settling herself on Dean's bed.

The boys exchanged looks that silently said, "That sounds better anyway." And with that, they decided to see what was on television. Dean and Meranda took the pillows on Dean's bed and moved them to the opposite end. They lay propped up on their elbows while Dean flipped through the channels. Sam was sitting on the edge of his own bed watching the changing screen. He glances at the clock – almost 8:00 P.M. He has a nagging feeling that he's forgetting something…something he's supposed to do. He begins running down the mental checklist that begins with salting the doors and windows – as he mentally checks off each item, his eyes go to those places. The second time his eyes land on the door he realizes that it's not locked. Shaking his head as he walks toward it, he can't believe he forgot to make sure the door was locked when they came in with dinner earlier. Meranda was the last one in, with her hands full, and how could he expect her to know anyway?

He locked the door and as he was walking back, Meranda reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"C'mon Sam! Lay with us!" she said with a smile, sliding closer to Dean and consequently the middle of the bed.

There was a moment of hesitation when Sam had that feeling of forgetting something pass over him again. He looked down at her and realized there were only two pillows…is that it? It had to be.

"Sure, lemme grab my pillow!"

Sam grabbed his pillow and they made room for him. As they lay there shoulder to shoulder – Sam, Meranda and Dean – there is a feeling of comfort in their closeness that makes them relax. Dean passed over some great horror flicks, which was rather unlike him, but Sam assumed that it was because their normal way of watching them was to critique how the monster is dealt with as opposed to reality and what really works. He paused on "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmerman". He would have watched it, but Meranda's face was contorting in disgust over the host's latest squirming meal – Sam was silently grateful. He finally settled on a "Family Guy" marathon and put the remote down.

Ten minutes into the show, Meranda sat up between them resting a hand on each of their backs. While they continued watching television, she slid her hands under their shirts and absently began stroking them. A sense of calm cloaks them and they both feel something they haven't in a long time – safe...safe without the need for vigilance to preserve it. Every muscle in their bodies seems to soften with release of the tension they've been carrying for so many years.

They lay their heads on their pillows and before they realize it, they're both sound asleep. Meranda continues stroking them, watching television. When she's sure they've given up and gone to sleep, she goes out to her car and retrieves her bag. She makes sure that she stays alert while outside of the room – taking in every sound and carefully analyzing them for potential threats.

As she's returning to the room, she notices the line of salt at the threshold. It's been broken. Quietly, she looks through their things until she finds the keg and solidifies it again.